


when you're not looking

by MarzgaPerez



Series: A Milkovich Always Gets His Man [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: But don't let Mickey hear you say that, Canon Compliant, Canon-typical language, Day 2, Fantasizing, Freckles, GW2020, Gallavich Week, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Season 1, Secret Crush, head canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzgaPerez/pseuds/MarzgaPerez
Summary: For Gallavich Week 2020 - Secrets DayMickey wanted that same high with someone who could give it to him good and keep their fucking trap shut. Gallagher was the one. He was convinced. He’d started the wheels in motion. Now he just had to wait.Or, the incredibly true tale of how Mickey fell for Ian first and how much he sucks at flirting.Or, the original best kept secret of S1. Canon compliant.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Kash Karib, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: A Milkovich Always Gets His Man [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845640
Comments: 21
Kudos: 193
Collections: Gallavich Week 2020





	when you're not looking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [J_Q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Q/gifts).



Wiry. Freckled. Tall-ish and probably wasn’t done growing. The kid had heart, too. But Mickey didn’t give a fuck about Gallagher’s heart. Just his cock. He wanted it inside of him. Wanted the redhead’s bony ass fingers digging into the small of his back, pounding him into another dimension.

It was a secret he kept buried, along with other fantasies he’d had since he was eleven or twelve. But internet porn and a mega dildo only got you so far. Mickey had decided he was ready for the real thing, and he’d let himself, just a few seconds a day, consider the idea of Ian Gallagher fucking him. 

This new obsession with Gallagher and his magical cock was all thanks to his slut of a sister. Mickey had barely ever noticed the jarhead wannabe before Mandy started making a fuss about him. Claiming she’d been taken “advantage of” by the twerp. Gallagher didn’t look like he knew a cooch from a hole in the ground, let alone how to stick his dick in one.

But Mandy had whined and pouted until Mickey and their older brothers had agreed to knock some sense into the little perv. Then she suddenly called them off, said it had all been a misunderstanding and that Ian Gallagher was a perfect gentleman. She swore up and down they were going together now. _Bullshit._

Mickey wasn’t buying their girlfriend/boyfriend routine. He’d never seen them sucking face or caught Gallagher squeezing his sister’s ass. Matter of fact, Firecrotch had never once looked at Mandy with anything other than wide-eyed puppy dog admiration. Either the kid had a screw loose, which was a definite possibility considering who his father was, or plain and simple, he was a flaming queer.

So Mickey kept an eye on Gallagher. Told himself he needed to know. For Mandy. _She_ deserved to know the truth.

He watched the kid most afternoons underneath the platform of the L in front of the Kash and Grab, knew his schedule like the back of his hand, had seen that freckled face appear in the window of the double doors most afternoons, like clockwork. Right after the bitch with the scowl and the scarf wrapped around her head hurried out of the store, purse clutched at her side. 

Even from several feet away, Mickey could plainly see the eager jitter of Gallagher’s fingers as he turned the lock and flipped the sign to “Closed.” And 15 minutes later, sometimes 10, the kid would be back at the door to unlock it, hair disheveled, face flushed, as he turned the sign back to “Open.”

Mickey figured out pretty quickly what was what between Gallagher and his boss. And he had a pretty good idea from that kid’s swagger who was giving it and who was taking it. Question was: why the fuck was Gallagher blowing his load into that towelhead? Maybe he liked older dudes on account of, _what were they called_? Daddy issues. Fuck, who wouldn’t with Frank Gallagher as their dad. Or maybe he’d landed his dick in the nearest asshole out of convenience? It’d be suicidal, otherwise, putting that gay shit out there, especially being Southside. At least the kid wasn’t super faggy. Seemed to fly under the radar.

Mickey kept an eye on Gallagher at school, too—when he actually felt like showing up, that is. When his own piece of shit father didn’t have him going on runs. Or when he wasn’t trying to get over an all-night bender. 

He noticed that the redhead was quiet. Dedicated. Wore his JROTC uniform on Wednesdays and managed not to look like a total pussy. Kept to himself mostly, other than following his asshole brother Lip around. 

And now that Gallagher and Mandy were attached at the fucking hip, Mickey would see him over at their house every now and again. The kid would always look the other way when Mickey came around. Whatever stupid grin he was wearing would disappear, and he’d go into soldier boy mode. Serious. But he didn’t look like he was afraid of Mickey anymore. Just...neutral, like maybe there was something on his mind he was trying not to give away.

Mickey’s dick would usually betray him, seeing Gallagher sprawled out on the couch, pizza bagel in hand. He’d retreat to his room and let the fantasy play out—the redhead bending him over and fucking him good and hard. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Gallagher’s freckled face would look when he came in Mickey’s ass. Tongue hanging out, sweat beading on his bare chest. Kid probably had freckles everywhere. Probably had freckles on that dick swinging between his legs.

God, Mickey wanted that kid to bone him. But there was no fucking way he could say anything about it. _Ever_. He had to keep things the way they were now. And a safe distance between them. 

_Or did he?_ There were plenty of places Mickey could have gone to shoplift on the Southside, but only one place with Ian Gallagher. And boy did Mickey get off on tangling with the kid. Plus, he needed Gallagher to realize what a pussy his fuck-buddy was. Needed to get the kid riled up, pissed off. Needed to see that crooked smile turn wicked. Needed to be owned by that cock and the skinny dweeb attached to it. So maybe if he could get under his skin, make it Gallagher’s idea, maybe he could get closer to getting what he wanted.

 _Hey, Mickey, why don't you steal_ _from a neighborhood you don't live in? Have some civic pride, huh?_

The kid had balls after all. Mickey responded by throwing a container of dip at him. _You know where I live if you have a problem,_ he’d said.Maybe Gallagher didn’t realize it, but it was as close to an invitation as he was gonna get. _A mighty generous offer,_ Mickey reasoned. 

He’d sucked the gob of French onion dip off his finger—dip he didn’t really want or like—but he’d gone back for it anyway. Wanted to see if he could get Gallagher to say something. Mission accomplished.

The kid probably didn’t know it at the time, would never have guessed that Mickey went straight home and jerked it in the bathroom—twice—as he imagined ripping off Ian Gallagher’s ugly ass plaid shirt and yanking his cords and boxers down around his knees to reveal the giant-ass boner he knew Gallagher would be sporting, just for him.

Mickey began firming up his plan to move things along. He decided that the quickest way to snag Gallagher was by messing with his boyfriend—or whatever the fuck he called him. _Game on. Middle-aged motherfucker ain’t got nothing on me._

Some might say—though Mickey never would have asked for their opinion—that he wasn’t playing fair. That his actions could actually drive Gallagher closer to Kash. _Eh, it was still worth a shot._

What did Mickey have to lose anyway? Worst case scenario, he’d have a little fun, and Gallagher wouldn’t take the bait. And if the kid ever did get wind of his secret, this thing he liked, this thing he wanted, which was unnatural and the most unMilkovich-like thing he could possibly want, Mickey would threaten him within an inch of his life not to breathe a word to anyone. Besides, reasoned Mickey, a guy could like what he liked. Didn’t make him a faggot.

It was a few days after Mickey splattered dip all over the front of the Kash and Grab that he went back to the scene of the crime to stir up more shit. And to lay eyes on Gallagher, of course.

He must have gotten his days mixed up, though, as the redhead was nowhere to be found, only Kash who looked nervous as fuck as Mickey approached the register. He was carrying more than his usual haul since him and his brothers would be picking Terry up from prison the next day and needed some refreshments.

“Gimme a bag for my shit.”

“Need to ring you up first,” Kash mumbled, already knowing that was not a wise thing to say.

“Uh-huh, funny. Put it on my fucking tab, asswipe. A bag,” Mickey demanded, waving his hand impatiently. He noticed Kash futzing around with something behind the counter but didn’t think anything of it. He was more curious about Gallagher’s whereabouts. “Where’s your teenage sidekick?”

“I actually have a new ‘sidekick’ today,” Kash answered, pulling a gun on Mickey with the expertise of a four year old, hand shaking as he pointed it in the brunet’s direction.

“That so?” It was all Mickey could do not to laugh in his face. Moron still had the safety on. 

“You’re gonna pay for this stuff, Mickey, or I’m going to—”

In one swift motion, Mickey smashed his fist into Kash’s face, causing him to stumble back and cry out in pain. Startled, Kash loosened his grip on the gun, and Mickey leaned over the counter to easily pry it from his hands.

Kash had one hand over his injured eye and the other in the air, immediately surrendering to the sound of Mickey cocking the gun. 

“Don’t shoot. _Please_.”

Mickey still had the gun pointed directly at him. “Ever try that shit again, and I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out! You hear me?” Mickey spat. The last thing he intended to do that afternoon, other than give Kash some shit and maybe run into Gallagher for some spank bank inspiration, was get shot over a six pack and some Funions. 

“Fuck, man,” Mickey muttered under his breath. “I’ll get my own damn bag.”

He locked the safety and shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans before reaching around for some plastic bags and filling them up. Kash stood motionless in the same spot.

“Thanks for the gun, dickbreath,” Mickey said as he stomped away. He pretended not to hear Kash’s response as he pushed through the door— _just like your father—_ because then he might have reacted in a way that wouldn’t have been good for either of them.

Instead, he hurried back to his house, a lightness in his step. Mickey now had Kash’s gun, which he could sell, or keep as bait to reel Gallagher in. Either way, he couldn’t lose. 

The next day was a half day at school, which Mickey was happy to blow off, even if it meant riding with his asshole brother Jaime up state and pretending to care when Terry walked out of prison a free man. Hopefully, the asshole would be back in there sooner rather than later.

At least a “welcome home” gathering for Terry included plenty of booze and weed. The prostitutes, eh, Mickey wasn’t too excited about—he had other things on his mind. One thing in particular.

 _Fuck, I need to get off._ Mickey needed some relief after spending what seemed like a fucking eternity with Terry in the car, watching him get shitfaced, listening to his bullshit stories about how he ran things in the joint, and then eventually, passing out.

 _But onto more important matters_. Mickey headed towards his room and flicked his cigarette butt into an empty pop can. He flopped down on his bed and snatched the lube from the drawer of his nightstand. No dildo today. With Terry back in the house, Mickey had decided to store the thing under the loose space beneath the floorboard. The lube he could explain more easily, should his old man find it. For now, his fingers would have to do. 

Mickey allowed himself a slight grin as he imagined Gallagher pushing his way inside the room, chest heaving with anger over Mickey roughing up his pedophile fuck-buddy and swiping the gun from Kash. Maybe the kid would want to punish him. _With his dick._ It was always the quiet ones who were freaks in the sack.

Mickey ran the palm of his hand over the growing bulge in his sweatpants and closed his eyes, sighing quietly as another image of Gallagher drifted into his mind. Now the kid was hovering over him, chest heaving for a different reason, eyes wild, and his stupid-ass grin looked fucking menacing. _Hungry_. Gallagher wanted it as much as he did. 

Mickey yanked his sweatpants down around his hips, freeing his cock, which was now fully erect and aching for a freckled hand to jerk it. But a rougher, more familiar hand with tattooed fingers would have to do. Mickey squeezed a decent amount of lube around the tip of his dick and massaged it downwards, coating himself and getting a delicious friction going. He made sure to get some lube for his other hand, the one he’d use in place of his dildo, and for now, as a poor substitute for Gallagher’s hard cock. 

Mickey flipped onto his side and snaked his hand around to breach his own entrance, sinking two fingers past the furled skin of his hole, all the while, seeing freckled cheeks and a wicked grin and hearing Gallagher panting into his ear, promising he was going to make Mickey pay for what he’d done. 

Maybe Gallagher’s idea of punishing him would be a couple of hard slaps on his ass before he climbed on top of Mickey, pushed him down and spread his ass cheeks apart. The kid probably wasn’t experienced enough to bother prepping the dudes he fucked, but Mickey was already there, three fingers deep, alternating between grinding back on his fingers and pushing his hips forward into the feverish strokes of his hand on his cock. 

He bit into his lower lip, imagining the redhead grabbing his thighs, telling him to slow the fuck down, ordering Mickey to hold off on coming until Gallagher told him otherwise. Then he’d push that monster cock inside and start pounding, shoving Mickey’s hand away from his own cock until he told him he could put it back. 

The redhead would go to town, thrusting deeper and deeper and moaning about how fucking good Mickey felt around his cock. _Tight_. The best he’d ever had, better than anyone he’d ever fucked before. And right before Gallagher was about to come inside of Mickey, he’d realize that the Southside thug wasn’t going to last much longer and finally let Mickey touch himself again. 

_Fuuuuuuuck._ Mickey was overcome with a blinding surge of pleasure as a thick, warm liquid dribbled over the fingers he had wrapped around his dick. He moaned into his pillow, feeling the final spasms around the fingers curled inside his asshole. For the next few minutes, he couldn’t move a muscle, tongue practically hanging out of his mouth, breath stilted. 

This whole situation, wanting Gallagher the way he did, made him feel like a goddamn bitch. But he didn’t give a shit. He wanted that same high with someone who could give it to him good and keep their fucking trap shut. Gallagher was the one. Mickey was convinced. He’d started the wheels in motion. Now he just had to wait.

Mickey managed to lift himself up from his bed and clean himself off with a t-shirt that he’d tossed on the floor, God-knows-when. After pulling his sweatpants back up, he collapsed on his stomach, drifting off to sleep with visions of where he and Gallagher were going to bang for the first time. 

He woke up later that afternoon to the sensation of something hard poking his back. Slowly lifting his head, Mickey rubbed at his face, trying to act like he was surprised about who was standing next to his bed.

“Gallagher?” he muttered, fully aware of how this was all going to play out.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to J_Q for the amazing beta and for being so supportive in general! I vow to finish at least one of my WIPs.


End file.
